Forgive and Forget
by 1tT4k3sTw0
Summary: It's America's birthday week and England being a bummer as usual. But when the Brit goes too far America thinks of the perfect scheme for revenge-that totally backfires.


America knew it wasn't going to be a good day when he saw a pair of eyebrows stalking toward him.

It was rare to see England only a few days until the 4th of July. Even rarer was to see that he looked completely healthy and annoyed, like it was any old day.

"What are _you_ doing here," America couldn't help a confused scowl.

England replied with his own angry scowl, "Always a pleasure to see you too."

Before America could say that he wasn't 'upset' to see England, the door behind him open and out walked his boss. England quickly smoothed out his scowl and offered the president polite greetings.

"Her Majesty wished to send her well wishes for the country's birthday," England explained formally, "Unfortunately she caught a cold and sent me instead."

"Well," America stepped in front of the president, "You did your job and now you can go home." He wasn't trying to be mean… He just really didn't want England to vomit blood all over his boss.

England sent him a dark look while the president quickly apologized and invited him for tea. To America's surprise England agreed, to his non-surprise he was terrible company.

America and his boss sat talking about all the latest sport events while drinking their coffee (neither cared for tea), while England sat awkwardly beside them, silently sipping his tea. America was impressed that he wasn't getting sick, maybe he was finally getting over the fact America became independent (he wasn't sure how he felt about that). However his bad mood was palpable.

The president tried for polite conversation with the Brit but he only answered in short boring answers and it was really starting to bug America. He could've politely declined his boss's offer. He didn't have to sit here.

"I apologize for not being very talkative," England apologized to the president, not bothering to do the same to America even though it was his birthday week he was ruining. "I just never feel very well during this time of the year."

"You _can_ go," America suddenly snapped, earning the attention of both England and his boss. "I mean, we'd both understand if you want to leave. God forbid you be in a good mood when I'm happy on my special day."

"America…" his boss said in a wary warning tone.

England shot him daggers for a moment before his lips turned up into a snide grin, "Usually I would. But you know, I just felt like the president would enjoy talking to someone his own size."

America nearly choked on his coffee, "W-What?"

"Don't get angry," But…well, now that you mentioned it… America you could do with losing a few pounds."

"Well that was a disaster," the president said as England finally left.

America pouted, putting a bag of ice on his bruised cheek. "He started it."

"He wouldn't have said anything if you hadn't have said what you did," he countered.

Despite the president's warnings, after England had commented on America's weight the younger nation had absolutely no qualms with brining up the former empire's cooking, and clothes, and old age, and eyebrows…until it ended up with them trying to strangle each other.

America felt like a kicked dog after his boss continued to lecture him about acting his age. But once he was released America had a brilliant idea. It was one thing for England to insult him any old day when it was just the two of them and maybe a few other countries. It was another thing to make fun of his weight, in front of his boss, during the week of his _birthday_. Oh no, America would have his revenge and it would be as sweet as ice cream and chocolate.

His chance came faster than he had hoped for the next day he got a phone call saying the Queen wished to apologize to him personally for England's behavior but was still in bed. He left with his boss's blessing and a promise that he wouldn't pick another fight with England (it wasn't a fight when you were getting even).

However upon arrival England was no one near his boss and he didn't feel right asking the lady where he had run off to because odds are she'd see through his plan. So instead he sat through a rather awkward apology. After explaining to her everything was cool (which was true he wasn't upset with _her_ nor blamed her for how England acted), he quickly made his leave with a "hope you get well soon."

Disappointed/frustrated that he couldn't find England he decided he needed a drink and went to the nearest bar. Where there it would appear Fate was on his side.

"You know nothing of my feelings!" England drunkenly yelled at a harassed looking bartender.

Feeling like a cat that had just cornered a mouse America slid into the stool next to England and ordered a round. "What's up, Eyebrows?"

The Brit, finally noticing him, snorted, "Oh, it's _you_. What do you want, Dudley?"

"Dudley," America echoed, confused.

"You know, Dudley. Harry Potter's fat ass cousin," England explained then glared, "You're just like him, all big and fat and spoiled and rude and fat!"

America scowled; England was digging his grave deeper. "I'm not fat."

"Of course you are, now what are you doing in me!"

Well, _that_ statement got a few heads turning. "What are you talking about?"

"You're here in London, fat arse," England snarled, " _My_ London, my beautiful getaway from idiots like you and that frog and everyone else in this stupid bloody world!"

"Actually, it's funny you mentioned that," America said casually, receiving his drink. "Your boss invited me over to apologize on your behalf."

England took another long chug before replying, "I have nothing to apologize for."

"You insulted me on the week of my birthday, dude," America couldn't help snapping.

England gave him a mocking pity face, "Oh, poor wittle America. Did I hurt your tiny wittle feelings?"

"You must be the friend he's been talking about," the bartender said as he refilled both their glasses. He gave America a confused and sympathetic look; there was no telling what the drunk England had told the bartender. Probably embarrassing stories from when he was a colony.

They continued to drink, insulting each other as they usually did whenever they got together. America had a nice buzz going on while England was totally blitzed, which was just perfect.

America glanced at England who was swaying in his seat, apparently not being able to decide whether to hum his national anthem or chat with his imaginary friends.

As America thought of all the possible means of revenge for the British bastard his eyes focused on England's neck.

His neck was slim, and pale, beads of perspiration running down his Adam's apple.

An idea was starting to form in his head. If he hadn't been tipsy he probably would've dismissed it, decide a whooping cushion in his chair at the next world meeting would be perfect revenge. But he was tipsy, and pissed off. And horny, now that he thought about it…Might as well kill two birds with one stone.

"England, can we head over to your place?" Considering how drunk the nation was America wasn't about to waste his witty charm on someone who wouldn't remember it.

"Eh," England blinked and tried to focus his green eyes on the American. "You wanna go to a race? Well, no one's stopping you."

"No," America said firmly, "I want to go to your place-as in your house."

"But why," England whined, it was high-pitched enough to break glass.

"I'm bored," America complained, "And I have an idea that could be real… _fun_."

England slammed his fist on the table, startling the younger nation, "Dragon riding!"

"No. How about we just go and I'll explain when we get there?"

He grabbed the Brit's arm and led him toward the door, but first England found it necessary to make a dramatic exit:

"Peasants! I and Dudley here are off to track down a dragon and ride it over the rainbow! May you be-what's the word- _Peanut butter for the rest of eternity_!"

America quickly dragged him out before another word could be said.

Once in a cab and heading on their way to England's house America decided to try and set the mood. He started with something simple, his arm wrapped around England's waist. The older nation didn't seem to notice, his eyes focused outside as he sang some old Beatles song.

America decided to slide his hand to England's thigh, it was warm. He spent a few minutes massaging it, gradually getting closer to his groin. Frustrated, America was about to give up, deciding England was too wasted for his plan to work if he didn't even notice America's hand.

But then England suddenly leaned against him and America saw that his cheeks were flushed with more than just drink.

"More to the right," he whispered.

With a smug smile America complied, stroking the man's inner thigh. After a moment England grabbed his wrist, America thought England was going to push his hand away, but instead he got a handful of the Brit's hard dick. Surprised, America's hand flexed, causing England to let out a low moan that sent all of America's blood down south.

Thankfully they had by then reached England's house, and after giving the cabbie a hefty tip America all but dragged the Brit inside.

Once the door was shut behind him he had England's back up against his chest and without further ado stuck his hand down England's pants.

He was rewarded with England throwing his head back with a moan as America grabbed him. Seeing that the nation was already dripping with pre-cum, America started to slick him up, all the while England dug his nails into America's arm, making small mewling noises.

"Feels good, huh," America breathed in his ear, making England shiver.

He nodded quickly, "I…I want to touch it."

"Then touch it," America replied, assuming England meant his own dick.

England released America's arm and grabbed the man's thighs, feeling around for his Florida.

America, realizing that there was a chance his hard on might actually split a hole in his pants, released England to undo his pants. As soon as his cock was set free England dropped to his knees.

"Woah, woah, woah," America balked, grabbing England's head to stop him, "What are you doing?"

The Brit pouted, "You said I could touch it."

"I thought you were talking about your own cock-and that you would touch it with your hands!"

England's monstrous brows furrowed, "Now that's just silly. Why would I want to touch mine when it was already in such large, warm, capable hands?

"And since I'm not nearly as good with my hands as you are, I decided to use my mouth. I've gotten plenty of compliments on my mouth, just so you know."

America really didn't want to hear about England's past blow jobs but the Brit continued before he could interrupt. "Besides if I can get you all nice and wet we won't have to worry about lube."  
…Oh. Well, when he put it like _that_. "I need to sit down."

Once he was comfortable sitting on the couch England wasted no time in kneeling and started to lick him like a lollipop.

"Your tongue is warm," America murmured his whole body hot and his vision glazed. He ran his fingers through England's blond hair, it was soft.

England made a happy murmur and replaced licking with kissing, though at one point he switched back to licking when he reached his pre-cum leaking tip. America leaned his head back, closing his eyes with a content sigh. This was the best kind of revenge.

But then he nearly jumped to the ceiling when England suddenly deep-throated him.

America groaned, England's mouth was so warm and wet and his face looked so cute and erotic as his head bobbed up and down…up and down.

"England," America moaned, "I'm…about to cum…a _lot_. You might want to pull out."

But England didn't, instead opening his eyes to lock his gaze with the other country. That smoldering look left America in cinders as he came, bending over with a strangled yell.

England pulled his lips off him and a moment later America heard a loud swallow. He stared at England in shock who simply smiled flirtingly and licked his lips.

"Y-you didn't have to swallow," he said dumbly.

The Brit chuckled, "Who wouldn't swallow such a tasty treat?"

Ho-ly shit. Who was this guy, because he sure as hell wasn't England.

America leaned back against the couch, trying to catch his breath and suddenly could no longer meet that hot-ass gaze. "It's hot," he murmured.

"Indeed," England agreed before slipping off his shirt. America stared at him. He couldn't remember the last time he saw England shirtless. He was so slender, pale, his muscles while small were defined, and he was also soft-looking, especially those pert pink nipples that were begging to be sucked.

When England pulled off his pants America bit his lip to keep from laughing, leave it to him to wear Doctor Who boxers that looked absolutely adorable.

America unbuttoned his shirt as England, now completely nude, slipped his pants off. Now with no clothes in the way England climbed into America's lap as the larger man leaned against the couch's arm rest.

"Don't think you'll be kissing me with that mouth," America teased England's mouth barely an inch from his own.

England flashed him a Cheshire Cat grin, "Then I'll just give you kitten kisses." He then proceeded to lick America's cheeks, ears, and neck.

"Meow," America grinned. England mimicked a purring noise.

"Oh," the Brit suddenly stopped America's grooming and looked down. America hadn't even realized he had gotten hard again.

"You know," England smiled, still looking down. "Florida is much bigger than I thought it would be."

"Fun fact," America sat up with a seductive smirk, "There's a reason the 'happiest place on earth' is in Florida."

Grabbing England's and his own cock he started to rub them together.

England moaned, "Then make me smile."

They spent a few moments gyrating against each other, moaning each other's names. America started to suck on England's neck, his hand resting on the small of England's back as the Brit's head fell back, his moaning increasing in volume.

After giving England a hickey that could be seen from space America finally got to suck those perfect little nipples.

" _Oh_ ," England jumped beneath him, America wanted to burst with pride.

" _T-t-t-touch me_ ," England suddenly burst into song, " _I wanna be diiirty~_ "

America removed his mouth to burst into laughter, England sang/laughed along with him. England suddenly yelped and a warm stickiness covered America's fingers.

"Whoops," England said, panting.

America smiled, lifting his hand he licked the cum off his fingers, never breaking eye contact with England.

It was the other nation who blushed and looked away, "You're shameless."

America chuckled, " _I'm_ shameless? You're the one who tried to eat my dick!"

"I couldn't help it," England argued, looking down at their cocks still held together. "I'm just as big a fan as Big Ben."

"Speaking of Big Ben," America spoke up, "I like it better when it's all hard and leaking."

England wrapped his arms around the taller man's neck, "Then let's go to my room and have it do just that."

America lifted England into his arms as the Brit worked on giving America his own hickey.

When England was lying in his bed he stretched and smiled, "Let's play pretend."

"Okay," America snickered with a smirk, "What are we pretending to be?"

"You're a starving wolf hound," England began, "And I am a delicious milk bone."

America's smirk turned into a grin, "So you want me to eat you?"

"Oh yes," England purred, "But first you have to lick and nibble me all over 'till I'm nice and chewy."

"Of course," America lifted one of England's feet and gave it a slow lick. He continued upward, encouraged by England's moans.

"Good doggy," England murmured.

America growled happily, going up to lick England's nipples. A few minutes later he had officially tasted all of that delicious milky skin and Big Ben was once again at attention.

"I want Florida," England whined, staring at America's cock. America offered his hand to England who started to suck on his fingers. With his fingers nice and moist he slipped a finger into England who didn't even flinch. Encouraged, he slipped another finger in and started to stretch him, England watched with hooded eyes.

After the third finger he snapped at America to hurry the fuck up. America rolled his eyes and would've ignored him if his own dick wasn't aching so much.

Leaning over him he started to press his tip into the other man's ass, and then slowly started to slide in. England gasped at the same time America forgot how to breathe. He didn't…wow, he didn't expect it to feel that good. He quickly pushed himself the rest of the way in, making England give out a drawn out groan.

"You…you're so big," he moaned, an arm slung over his eyes, "So…big."

"Does it hurt," America couldn't help but ask, temporarily forgetting this was all for revenge.

England quickly shook his head, "No, no…I-I like…Move… _Move_!"

America pulled out slightly before thrusting in, making them both flinch and moan.

"Again…," England breathed, "Again…"

America set up a rhythm and started to relentlessly slam into the Brit, loving the sound of his moans an dhow tight he was. Oh yeah, he wasn't sure why but having England around his cock was the best idea he had in centuries. And there was something about being inside England that made him so…'happy' didn't seem the right word.

"Oh God… _oh God_ ," England screamed as America continued to pound into him. "Don't stop-please don't stop! Harder… Harder!"

America would've smirked or said something snide but all he could do was focus on doing what England ordered.

"You're so tight, it feels so good," America finally managed to moan.

England smiled warmly, "I'm glad." The smile suddenly vanished and he arched his back, digging his nails into America's shoulders. "YES! YES!"

He wrapped his legs around America's waist as the younger nation started to stroke England's rock hard cock.

"Bloody hell," England panted, "That's it. That's the way."

America forgot things like time and places and revenge. It was just him, inside England, stroking him and thrusting inside him. It was him who was making England sweat, making him scream compliments and moan insults.

His rising climax must've shown on his face because England suddenly spoke, "C-Cum inside."

Before America could reply he did just that, and a split second later England came over them both, arching his back as they both screamed in ecstasy.

Ah! AHHHhhhh! America-America! I love you!"

America, shaking from his climax, fell on top of England, his body slick with sweat as he tried to catch his breath.

"Y-You're so good, Eng-" America stopped.

Wait…did England just…No way.

The Brit tightened his arms and legs around him and started to kiss his neck. "I love you-I love you so much. It means nothing if it isn't you…you're mine."

America couldn't breathe. What the hell? He was lying right? England didn't love him!

But America knew if there was ever a time when England was honest; it was when he was drunk. His heart suddenly hurt.

A loud snore told him England had fallen asleep in the midst of his kissing and confessing his love.

Confessing his love…

America slid out of England's embrace, ignoring the disappointed feeling in his chest as he pulled out of him.

After tucking the unconscious nation in, America quickly dressed and left.

It wasn't until he was in the cab to a hotel did he realize there were tears in his eyes.

England greeted the morning with a curse. He smothered his face in his pillow, trying to calm his raging headache. He was never going to drink again.

Sitting up he flinched, his ass was throbbing. Last night's events hit him like a jack hammer and he ran to the bathroom to vomit.

With his stomach empty he decided a scalding shower was just what he needed. That and serious denial.

"It was just a dream," he told himself under the hot spray, "An incredibly vivid dream that is making me _think_ my ass is sore when in reality it's perfectly fine."

A moment later something ran down his leg that wasn't water. Teary-eyed he watched it swirl down the drain along with his denial. He fell to his knees, sobbing. He had had sex with _America._ He had kissed his skin, sucked his cock, and made _love with him_. And if that wasn't bad enough he had even confessed his love mid-orgasm.

"I-I was never suppose to say that! He was never supposed to know, damnit!"

England slammed his fist on the shower floor. He had no idea how to feel. Angry, scared, sad…happy?

"What the bloody hell am I suppose to do now?"

To be Continued…


End file.
